the stream sang beside her, while her paws carefully pried aside the rivermint and yarrow. each stem was chosen for purpose, not beauty, though she admired the tender curve of leaves and the way water clung to them like silver thread. her teeth were stained bitter. her shoulders smelled of stone and damp bark.
the scent of a stranger lifted her head.
she blinked once, a owlish thing— then again. across the field, bathed in the sun’s hush, was a girl. not of the valley. not of her blood. the soft blond of her coat seemed to glow where it met the grasses, and cloud lash watched her rest there as though she belonged, as though the world had not just cracked itself open.
her ears flicked.
a test? a lanzadoii trap? no— too peaceful for that.
still, cloud lash rose, stalks brushing her legs, and approached with the quiet gait of a river animal. her red eyes did not narrow, but they gleamed with the thought behind them.
who... she said softly, almost disbelieving. her nose twitched. who are you?